


Eurydice

by BearWithAHat



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 18th Century, Art, F/F, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inspired by film, Painting, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Religion, Slow Burn, girls in pretty dresses uhaha, uhh i don't know what else to tag this as
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearWithAHat/pseuds/BearWithAHat
Summary: At the end of the eighteenth century, Tatiana is hired to secretly paint the wedding portrait of a young woman who she ends up falling in love with.(aka the portrait of a lady on fire au that nobody wanted)
Relationships: Tatiana Calderón/Jamie Chadwick
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Eurydice

**Author's Note:**

> okay so I'm uploading this at the urging of discord friends sjsjs I was gonna upload it all when I finished it fully but you know what? here's some of what I have done already ❤️ this is copy and pasted from the document I wrote it in so I really hope that there's no parts that didn't get added in sjsjs
> 
> this is directly inspired by the French film portrait of a lady on fire; which I 1000% recommend watching it is INCREDIBLE. also, the servant girl Sophie from that film is in this because I genuinely couldn't think of someone to take her place lmfao.
> 
> anyways I'll upload more of this when I have more of it done ssjsj I hope someone out there likes this
> 
> also, there are references to someone taking their own life, however it doesn't actually happen here and isn't anything too bad, but still sjsj thought I would put a disclaimer.

Tatiana wrapped her coat further around her body and shivered in the afternoon air. Clouds covered the sky and the sea rocked the small boat as she was rowed further away from the mainland of Brittany and closer to the isolated island where she had been commissioned to. Beside her lay a trunk of her clothes, paints and brushes, a few books, and what little personal items she had brought with her.

On her other side was a blank canvas, stored in a flat wooden box and tied shut. Already the sea spray had soaked the wood quite a bit, and Tatiana hoped that it hadn’t leaked through to the canvas too much.

“How much farther?” Tatiana asked one of the men rowing the boat. It had been a few hours since they set off from the port, and she wondered how far off the mainland she would end up.

“It should only be a few more minutes,” the man hollered over his shoulder.

Tatiana nodded and shivered with each sway of the boat, flecks of the cold water settling into her skin and clothes. She pulled the canvas and trunk closer to her, straining her eyes over the horizon. The sun was just beginning its descent through the sky, and in the glow of evening, Tatiana could see the edge of cliffs peaking over the seemingly endless sea. As they pulled closer, she could make out sandy beaches and rocky cliffs, rolling plains atop the plateaus and colorful fields of flowers.

It was the type of place an artist could never get bored in, yet she would be doing no painting of the landscapes. Perhaps she could at least sketch them, Tatiana thought to herself, she had sketchbooks and charcoal with her too, after all.

By the time they reached the rocky shores, the sun was letting its dying rays cast over the ocean and shrouding much of the island in darkness. Tatiana stepped onto the wet sand and held her trunk in one hand and her boarded up canvas in the other.

“Climb up the path there, you’ll see the house once you reach the top,” one of the sailors told her.

“Thank you,” Tatiana nodded and looked in the direction he pointed.

Among the cliffs, there was a cut path in the stone, distinct steps carved out rather shoddily. It looked maneuverable, but Tatiana knew that it would do well to be careful as she climbed. She slung the canvas over her back and tucked the trunk underneath her arm, and she began to walk up the rocky path, being mindful of each step she took and using her hand to help balance herself. The sound of the waves hitting the rocks, the breeze blowing through the sea grasses, and the gentle paddling of the boat making its way back to the mainland were the only sounds that accompanied Tatiana as she climbed.

Once she conquered the last step, Tatiana saw an old looking house in the distance. A small hike through fields of grass and a few trees brought her to the front door, and it was almost entirely dark out when she knocked on the door.

A few seconds passed by before the door creeped open. A young girl with a candle in her hand peeked out, and Tatiana guessed that she was the servant by her clothes and the sheer fact that she was still awake.

"My name is Tatiana," she said, shifting her hold on the trunk and shoving the canvas further over her shoulder, "I'm the painter."

"Come in," the servant nodded and pulled the door further open.

Tatiana stepped inside, finding herself in a small, dimly lit kitchen. She followed the girl down a hallway and up two flights of stairs, looking at the mostly barren walls and closed doors that they passed. The girl opened the door to a large room that had a bed and a few drawers on one side and a fireplace on the other. There were a few other pieces of furniture on the other side of the room near the fireplace, a few ottomans and end tables that Tatiana assumed was for her to incorporate into her painting. An easel was there too, and Tatiana noted a considerable amount of sheets folded next to it.

"This was meant to be a gathering room, but my mistress and the lady of the house never use it. You can sleep and work here. I'll light the fireplace so you can get dry," the servant quietly murmured. 

Tatiana nodded and set her trunk down by the bed, walking over to place the canvas by the easel while the girl gathered wood into the fireplace. Looking around the room, Tatiana briefly began to think about how to decorate the room to paint in the morning.

In the meantime, she shook the thoughts from her head and undid the ropes on the box of the canvas. She frowned when she opened it to find the canvas soaked with seawater, and took it out of the box.

"My name is Sophie, by the way," the servant nodded politely to her on her way out the door.

Tatiana thanked her and shut the door once she had left. The fire illuminated the room and she placed the soaked canvas next to it to let it dry, additionally taking off her damp dress and coat and laying them out to dry too. She wandered back over to the bed and opened her trunk, digging through it until she found another linen chemise to wear to sleep.

She pulled the fresh chemise over her head and checked her canvas and dress before slipping out the door of the makeshift bedroom. With the candle Sophie had left in hand, she crept down the stairs and through the hallways until she was back in the little kitchen that the front door of the house opened in to.

Sophie didn't appear to be in the room, although the large fire pit was still burning. Tatiana looked around for the girl for a moment and eventually decided that the hunger pangs in her stomach couldn't wait any longer. 

In the corner of the room were shelves of ingredients and foodstuffs. Tatiana carefully peered at the contents and found half a loaf of bread. Using the knife that was sitting beside it, she cut herself a piece and sat down at the bench of the wooden table in the center of the small room.

The bread was a bit dry, but not bad at all and certainly satisfactory to Tatiana, who hadn't eaten since early morning. As she ate, she heard Sophie come back into the kitchen and the young girl sat down opposite from her.

"Sorry, I haven't eaten since dawn," Tatiana apologized sheepishly.

"That's fine. Do you want some wine?" Sophie asked politely.

Tatiana nodded, and she watched as Sophie got up to pour her a glass of wine. It was sweet and relieving to her dry throat, and she quickly drank most of the glass. Sophie sat wordlessly across from her, filling up the glass again when it was empty and folding her hands neatly while she waited for Tatiana to finish.

"What is your mistress like? If you don't mind me being intrigued, that is," Tatiana asked, breaking off a corner of the slice of bread.

"I don't know much about her. I've been here for three years but she only got here a few weeks ago. She doesn't talk much, and it's not exactly my place to try to socialize with her," Sophie explained.

"Where did she come from?" Tatiana continued.

"The Benedictines. I'm not sure where exactly," Sophie went on quietly.

”Ah, is she here at the order of the church?” Tatiana inquired.

Sophie shook her head, "no, her mother brought her home after her sister died."

Tatiana nodded her head and took a swallow of wine, feeling sympathetic for the young mistress whom she had yet to meet. Losing a family member while being away must be hard.

"I take it her sister was the one who was going to get married. Was she sick?" Tatiana asked. She saw a shy, dark look come across Sophie's face as she quickly shook her head, uttering out a _no_. Tatiana wanted to ask what had happened but felt that it would have been rude to do so.

"Will you manage to paint her?" Sophie changed the subject after a tense moment passed.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" Tatiana raised an eyebrow.

"There was another painter here before you. He couldn't do it. I don't know why," was all Sophie said before getting up to clean the table and the empty wineglass.

Tatiana wondered what exactly was the deal with the mistress she was to paint, and she sat there at the table, enjoying the warmth of the fire while contemplating it. Eventually she felt weariness seeping into her bones and left the kitchen, trekking back upstairs to the spacious room.

Out of curiosity, she walked back over to where the easel with the sheets beside it was. There was a canvas that wasn't hers set against the wall, turned around so that the wooden backing frame was visible and the front of it was hidden. Tatiana slowly picked it up, turning it around and placing it on the easel.

An almost entirely completed portrait looked back at her. A plain background with an elegant figure sitting in the center of the canvas, decadently dressed in a ballgown with her hands folded neatly, graced the page. The posture was poised and perfect, ladylike and certainly no different than all the portraits Tatiana had ever painted before. The ballgown was beautifully painted, with the silky texture perfectly portrayed by brushstrokes of highlights and shadows, and the lace sleeves looked like Tatiana could have reached out and touched them. The figure's hands and arms were perfectly painted too, as was the expanse of the chest, shown off by the trim of the neckline.

And then, at the top of the page, the utterly beautiful painting was marred by a large blemish, purposefully done with a cloth by the look of it. The background and figure was disrupted so that there was no head on the figure. She sat there so elegantly, yet her head and face had clearly been wiped off, leaving a light cloud of messy, watered-down paint in its wake. It looked as if the portrait had been finished and then part of it wiped off.

Tatiana inhaled shakily and looked at it, taking a few steps back and shivering. It would have looked so lovely were it not for the lack of the head.

She suddenly felt that there was much more here than she had signed up for when she was commissioned to do a wedding portrait.

Tatiana was awake early the next morning, and she wasted no time in eating breakfast and getting dressed. The dress she had on the next day was dry from the fire, so she put it on and was pleased to find that the canvas was dry too. She set it over by the easel and heard a knock at the door as she did so.

"It's just me," Sophie's soft voice sounded, muffled by the door.

"Come in," Tatiana answered.

Sophie came through the door, making sure to carefully shut it behind her with her foot. Gathered in her arms was a gown, the same one from the unfinished painting that had been left by the other artist. It was a bright green colour with delicate white lace trim.

"This is the only ballgown my mistress has; it was her sister's. She still mostly wears her clothes from the convent," Sophie explained, walking over to Tatiana and showing her the dress.

Tatiana reached out and felt the silky material. Just from touching it she could tell how fine the quality was and guessed that it was most likely more expensive than all of the clothes she owned combined. Sophie showed her the length of the skirt, hitting the floor enough to be classy and modest but not dragging at all.

With an approving nod, Tatiana said, "that will do. It is just the type of thing to be worn for a portrait."

Sophie laid the dress out on the bed while Tatiana began to unpack her paints and other supplies.

"The lady of the house wants to see you in the drawing room soon. It's on the second level, to the left of the staircase," Sophie dutifully informed her before leaving.

Tatiana quickly finished bringing her art supplies to the other side of the room. She didn't do anything other than set it on the ground beside the easel and looked at herself in the mirror afterward, straightening out her skirt and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Taking a deep breath, Tatiana left the room and walked down stairs, following Sophie's instructions.

The sitting room was a warmly lit room with wooden walls, floors, and ceilings, the only decorations on the walls being candles and a portrait hung above the fireplace. There were a few places to sit, namely sofas and armchairs, but Tatiana also noticed a desk next to the fireplace and a small round table with kitchen chairs around it.

A lady in a dark blue gown sat the the table. Her hair was rolled into an elaborate bun with curls framing the sides of her face, with a dainty pearl necklace around her neck. It was clear that she was the woman in the picture above the fireplace, perhaps a bit older but still just as queenly in appearance.

On the table were two teacups, and Tatiana assumed the other one was for her. She walked across the wooden floors and sat down at the other chair at the table.

The lady smiled and nodded politely to her, placing her teacup on the saucer.

"What is your name, dear? You may call me Lady Chadwick," she began in a friendly manner.

"My name is Tatiana. Thank you for choosing me to do your daughter's wedding portrait," Tatiana introduced herself, standing up momentarily to curtsey in a gesture of respect.

"I just pray that you will be able to complete it," Lady Chadwick went on, "my daughter's selected suitor is a young wealthy Englishman who lives in Milan. If he likes the portrait, we will go there and they will marry."

Tatiana nodded and felt a pang of anxiety settle in her stomach, trying not to let it show in her face. To have the responsibility of painting a portrait that would make or break a marriage was a heavy task to carry on one's shoulders, and she hoped she could stand the pressure of knowing that a young woman's future rested on her painting skills. She also felt bad for the young woman, a marriage in which she had no choice sounded awful and Tatiana wouldn't want to be in that objectified situation.

"I will do my best, Lady Chadwick," Tatiana promised.

The lady sighed deeply and shifted in her chair, rearranging her skirts and continuing, "I must warn you though, she exhausted a painter who was here before you. Never even let him see her face."

"Why not? She didn't want to pose?" Tatiana asked.

"Jamie is adamant about refusing this marriage. She wants nothing to do with him and her way of preventing it, or rather stalling for time, was refusing to have her wedding portrait painted," Lady Chadwick explained with a tired look on her face, "You will need to work without her knowing. I've told her that you are a companion to go on walks with her, she is absolutely Finally Tatiana had the answer to her questions. So she would have to work mostly at night, it seemed, and try to keep any traces of paint hidden. Then there was the fact that she had to not let the girl, Jamie, figure out that she was an artist there to paint her, which honestly seemed easier than trying to hide the painting itself.

"Yes, I should be able to do it. Why wasn't she allowed outside, if I may ask?" Tatiana raised an eyebrow.

Lady Chadwick looked down at her lap and busied herself with smoothing out her skirt, as if she wasn't sure how to answer the question.

"To put it simply, I wasn't careful enough with her sister."

After Lady Chadwick dismissed her, Tatiana went back to her room to set up a concealed area for painting. She suddenly understood why there were so many sheets folded by the easel, which she dragged over to a corner of the room. With clothesline and pins, Tatiana hung the sheets up to create a curtain to hide the easel behind.

Once it was securely hidden behind the curtains, Tatiana fetched her canvas and set it up on the easel. Her other materials rested on an end table next to the easel, and she arranged it so that she had a glass pane for a palette overtop of a cloth nearest to her, her many paint brushes laying next to it, and all of the paints she had brought lay at the back of the small table.

The small curtained-off corner with little space wasn't exactly the most ideal art studio, but it would have to make do, and Tatiana knew she could make it work.

There was a knock at the door just as she finished setting the last paint bottle down. She walked over to open it and saw Sophie waiting, the servant nodding politely when the door creaked open.

"Jamie is waiting to go for a walk. You may not want to go down to the beaches today, the sea is quite rough," Sophie told her.

Tatiana made sure there was nobody else around and opened the door further, ushering her inside and shutting the door once she came in.

"I need to know, what happened to your late mistress? How did Jamie's sister die?" Tatiana asked in a hushed tone. She watched as Sophie's eyes darted between her, the door, and the floor, and she took a deep breath before looking Tatiana in the eye and beginning to speak.

"I was out walking with her one day, by the cliffs. She was walking behind me, and I turned around when I didn't hear her footsteps anymore. I looked over the edge of the cliff and saw her body on the rocks below," Sophie explained, a pained look coming across her face momentarily.

"Oh my god," Tatiana gasped, "I'm...so sorry. Did you see her fall?"

"No. I don't think she fell. She jumped," Sophie whispered, "she would have cried out if she fell."

They didn't speak after that, with Sophie helping Tatiana put on her coat as the painter solemnly reflected on what she had just learned. The suicide of her sister and the looming unwanted marriage both probably weighed heavily on Jamie, and for a brief second Tatiana wished that she was only there as a companion as Jamie thought; she felt guilty about lying to someone already in so much pain and being the aid in sealing the deal with the marriage. The portrait rested in Tatiana's hands, after all, and in painting it she was only furthering the future that Jamie did not want for herself.

All these complex feelings and sympathies Tatiana had for the woman, and they had yet to even meet. Tatiana thanked Sophie for her help and made her way down to the front door of the house, where Jamie was waiting for her.Â She descended the staircase and walked down the hall, curious about what her secret muse looked like.

Entering the kitchen, Tatiana saw a girl standing in front of the door. She stood with her back to Tatiana, and her blue cloak pulled over her head completely obscured her from Tatiana's view. She couldn't see her hair, her skin, her face, her clothes; all the saw was the back of the cloak as the girl opened the door when Tatiana was a few lengths behind her.

Jamie quickly walked out the door and Tatiana followed her, walking a few feet behind in the cool morning air. A light mist hung over the fields, although it cleared up once they walked through the grove of trees that surrounded the house. Tatiana kept her eyes on Jamie's back, the suspense of not seeing her face driving her to impatience. The back of the cloak stared back at her, tauntingly rustling in the light breeze.

The hood of the cloak fell down to reveal dark brown hair, tied up in a bun with a few loose strands coming undone. Jamie kept quickly walking, the sounds of the leaves underfoot quickening with her pace.

Tatiana followed, trying to keep up with her. She gathered her skirt and petticoat to walk faster, never fully able to catch up to her.

They came out into the open fields that let directly to the cliffs, where they could hear the waves hitting the shore, and Jamie suddenly began to run. Tatiana felt a pang of anxiety jolt through her and she ran after her, fearing what was about to happen if she didn't get to her in time.

Full blown panic overtook Tatiana as she desperately tried to stop Jamie, the girl rapidly getting ever closer to the cliffs and to what Tatiana assumed was the same watery grave her sister had dug herself into. She felt tears stinging her eyes, nearly tripping over her skirt and she thought she was going to have a tragedy on her hands until Jamie stopped just as quickly as she had started running, standing on the edge of the cliff.

She turned around. Jamie was panting from running and she had a small smile on her face. Her tan skin, brown eyes, and easy smile made Tatiana feel at ease. She was quite pretty, and Tatiana knew that her beauty would ensure that her suitor would want to marry her.

"I've been dreaming of that for so long," Jamie exclaimed, her smile growing wider.

Tatiana was trying to catch her breath and she let go of her skirts, fixing her coat which had begun to slip off one shoulder while hurriedly running after Jamie. She titled her head in confusion, "dreaming of dying?"

"No," Jamie breathed out, " _running_."

Tatiana broke out into a smile too. The two of them began to make their way along the cliffside, looking out at the ocean. Gradually, the cliffs turned from sheer rock face to a more sloping descent, and Tatiana wordlessly followed Jamie from behind. She trusted that the girl wouldn't do anything to hurt herself, but after what Sophie had told her and the scare she had just had, The sun began to peak through the clouds as Tatiana followed Jamie. The latter led her onto the rocky slopes. Jamie stood still on the rocky cliff side and looked out at the sea, the soft sound of the waves smacking against the sand ringing in her ears.

Tatiana wordlessly stood next to her. She knew that if she was going to successfully paint this woman without her knowing, she would have to study her features in the time they spent together, and now was a good time as any to get started.

Jamie let out a long exhale and closed her eyes for a second, deeply inhaling the salty air and gazing out at the sea afterwards. It was like she had never been outside before, and Tatiana wondered how much she had missed the feeling of the sun warming her skin and the wind playing with her hair. Being outside in the open air was restorative to Jamie, or at least Tatiana As they stood on the cliffs and watched the ocean undulate beneath them, Tatiana cautiously peeked over at her companion and began to make note of her appearance.

Jamie was very pretty. It was no boring task to look at her, to take in the details of the curve of her nose, the shape of her lips, the shape of her eyes and her jawline. Small strands of her dark hair flew loose from her bun and danced in the wind, tickling at her cheeks.

With her skirt gently swaying along with the breeze, Jamie looked at home. Tatiana let her eyes trail over her arms and shoulders until the girl looked over at her.

Tatiana quickly straightened her head to look out at the sea, hoping she hadn’t been caught looking for so long. To her relief, Jamie didn’t say anything and simply turned to watch the waters again too. Slowly, Tatiana shifted her gaze to look at Jamie again once she was focused on watching the waters.

Jamie let out another shaky breath and turned away from Tatiana, beginning to walk further down the sloping cliff and towards the beach. Tatiana made to follow her until she recalled what Sophie had told her, and she looked out at the sea once more to find that it did look a little too violent to take an enjoyable walk on the beach.

"Wait," Tatiana called, and Jamie stopped and turned around to face her, one eyebrow raised, "Sophie said we shouldn't go down there today. It's too rough to walk safely."

Jamie bit her lip for a moment and looked down at the rock beneath her feet. She seemed disappointed but didn't argue, and she walked past Tatiana and back up to the fields where they had walked previously.

"I guess we should go back now," Jamie sighed.

Tatiana nodded and followed her through the fields of grass, back in the direction of the brooding house. As they walked, she closely looked over what she could see of her, the shape of her ear and the sharpness of her cheeks.

Just as when they walked outside, Tatiana and Jamie were silent as they entered the house and went up the flights of stairs. They had gone on their walk, which was all that Jamie needed to think she was there for, and therefore Tatiana figured she should get to work as soon as possible. She turned to enter the sitting room turned bedroom when Jamie stopped in her tracks and turned around, watching her approach the door. Tatiana stilled before she put her hand on the door handle, looking over her shoulder and feeling Jamie's eyes burning into her.

"It's a bit strange that they made you sleep in there," Jamie commented, raising an eyebrow.

Tatiana's mind raced, trying to think of something casual sounding to say that wouldn't incite any further conversation. The last thing she needed was failing to keep her true task a secret on her first day and she wanted to get her ideas down onto paper, knowing that it would be easiest to accurately draw Jamie right after she had seen her.

"Yes, it is," was all she could settle for quietly saying.

Tatiana nodded politely and quickly slipped in through the door, letting out a sigh of relief when she heard Jamie's footsteps disappear down the hallway to her own room. She slipped her coat off, setting it on the bed, and got to work.

For the next few hours, Tatiana sketched Jamie in her notebook, capturing her likeness from her brief glances at her. She worked tirelessly to portray Jamie as best as she could, needing the drawings to help her with the final painting. If she couldn't have the woman posing in front of her, then the best she could do was have reference sketches of her to work from instead. It was better than nothing.

It ended up taking Tatiana into the evening to get to a point where she felt like she had enough drawings to help her with the final portrait. By the time she was finished drawing, Tatiana felt worn out and decided that she would start the painting in the morning. She was pleased with the work she had finished, and she was just putting her sketchbook away when Sophie called her to have dinner.

Tatiana went downstairs to find Sophie in the kitchen with two bowls of soup, one for herself and one for the artist. The lady of the house and Jamie had already eaten, the former finding it improper for working class women like Sophie and Tatiana to dine with the upperclass. Tatiana couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes about that, but she wasn't in a position to protest.

"How did things go today?" Sophie asked her quietly as they sat down at the long table.

"Fine. She just walked along the cliffs and looked around. It was like she had never been outside before," Tatiana reflected out loud, "I was able to get a good look at her a few times."

"Did you start painting her yet?" Sophie questioned further, pouring a glass of wine for each of them.

"No, I did some drawings of her to prepare. Tomorrow, I will start her portrait."

She stayed true to her word the next morning. After waking early, getting dressed, and scarfing down the end piece of a loaf of bread, Tatiana shut herself up in her room, in the corner where the curtains concealed her easel.

A blank canvas stared back at her, and for a moment, Tatiana wondered if she had made a mistake by accepting the commission. She shook the thought from her head and picked up a tube of paint, squeezing some of it onto the glass pane she used as a palette. The background would have to be painted first, and Tatiana found a large flat brush to paint it with.

Tatiana gathered some of the paint and began to cover the large canvas with it. It was a nice ochre colour, one which would compliment the green ball gown that she would paint Jamie in. With sweeping strokes, she filled the canvas with paint, using lighter hues to create a gradient that flowed from light in the center to dark on the outer edges.

Once the layers of paint of the background dried, Tatiana picked up a charcoal pencil and began to set in a basic sketch. Some of the drawings she had done of Jamie yesterday were set out on the floor so she could easily glance over and work from them. Tatiana narrowed her eyes as she so often did out of habit while working and drew Jamie in an elegant pose.

Drawing her facial features took a few times to get it looking right. She would sketch her eyes or nose, stand back and look at it, and then shake her head and paint over it again to start over. When Tatiana got to drawing her lips, she drew the girl with a small smile, wanting to make her look happy and pleasant even if Jamie would definitely not have been smiling for her portrait.

She was just beginning to lay down a light layer of paint for the dress when she was interrupted by the door creaking open. Tatiana wasn't sure how long she had been working, having been so focused on her work, and didn't know what time it was.

"Miss?" Sophie asked gently, letting the door fall shut behind her, "miss, it's time to go out now."

Tatiana hadn't even heard her come in the room and nearly dropped her paintbrush in surprise. She saw who it was and calmed down, setting the art supplies down and removing her muslin smock. Her coat was laying on an end table in her little painting area, and Tatiana grabbed it and shrugged it on as she walked over to Sophie, who was holding a silk scarf in her hands.

"It's very windy out. I need to cover you up before you go outside," Sophie explained. Tatiana stood still and let the servant wrap the warm scarf around her head and over her mouth, nose, and chin.

Jamie was covered up much the same when Tatiana descended down the stairs and found her waiting by the door.

Outside, the wind nipped at their heels and rustled their skirts, making the grass dance around their legs as they hiked through fields and along the cliffs. The fabric of the scarf obscured most of Jamie's face; only her eyes, eyebrows, and forehead were visible. It gave Tatiana the opportunity to study her eyes more clearly whenever Jamie glanced over her shoulder at the painter as if to nonverbally confirm that it was okay to keep on walking.

Dark brown eyes gazed softly at Tatiana. Her eyes were rich and earthy, like she had been sculpted of clay and set upon the ground as a piece of art, and Tatiana was entranced by the long eyelashes that framed Jamie's eyes. Whoever was getting to marry her was incredibly lucky, Tatiana thought.

Since the sea was calmer, they ventured down to the beach. Jamie led the way down the rocky steps of the cliff face and Tatiana carefully followed her closely behind. The rocks were cold as she placed a hand on them to steady herself with each step, despite the sun overhead.

With the low tide, much of the sandy beach was empty and bare. The sand gradually went from being coarse and soft near the base of the cliffs to being smoother and firmer the closer one got to the ocean. Loud waves rushed onto the shore, although the two women stayed close enough to the cliffs to keep dry. Tatiana followed Jamie as she leisurely walked along until she suddenly stopped and sat down in the sand, delicately tucking her legs up underneath her and folding her skirt neatly. A few feet away from her, Tatiana sat down too.

She heard Jamie let out a pleased sigh and glanced out of the corner of her eye to watch her. Tatiana was pleased to find that the beginnings of her portrait looked accurate to Jamie's features, or at least the eyes did so far. Still, she observed Jamie, noticing her mannerisms and the way she held herself.

Jamie's eyes wandered over the beach and the ocean, taking in the rock formations that jutted out from the cliffs into the sea, until her eyes landed on Tatiana. A small smile played across her lips. Tatiana could see her smiling through the thin fabric of the silk, made translucent by the sunlight filtering through.

"I think I would like to bathe in the sea sometime," Jamie remarked, shifting her gaze to look back at the waters once more.

"Perhaps on a calmer day," Tatiana responded, "the wind and the sea are both rather lively today."

Jamie nodded and looked down at her folded hands in her lap. They sat in a comfortable silence in the sand, listening and watching the waves crash onto the beach. Tatiana found that she couldn't look away from her companion. She was beautiful, and Tatiana could almost forget that she was studying Jamie for a portrait when she was looking at her.

“How long are you going to stay here?" Jamie spoke after a few minutes. Her face remained neutral but her voice betrayed anxiety.

"A week longer," Tatiana answered. To her surprise, she felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving. Something had tied her to the woman next to her, perhaps the fact that her fate rested in Tatiana's hands or the sympathy that Tatiana felt for her, and she had no knife to cut the line. How she would have loved to simply be there as a companion for Jamie, not a painter secretly doing a portrait for a marriage she did not want.

Tatiana blinked away the tears that were gathering at the corners of her eyes and didn't bother to fix her scarf when it fell down from her mouth and nose. "Can you swim? You'll need to if you want to bathe in the sea," Tatiana brought up to change the subject.

"I don't know if I know how to," Jamie simply answered. Tatiana figured that was characteristic of someone who seemed to have been kept under lock and key for most of their life.

Their conversation died out there. Tatiana let her eyes wander over Jamie while the girl looked out over the beach. Her folded hands were Tatiana's next field of study, something she would need to replicate in the portrait. Folded hands always made a subject look regal in a portrait, and Tatiana tried to commit every fold of her skin and the angle of her fingers to memory so she could portray it on the canvas later.

When she was trying to sketch her hands on the canvas later, Tatiana had no problem drawing them in with the rest of the portrait. She was almost ready to start painting Jamie, but there was one thing bugging Tatiana: her smile never looked right.Â She was still frustrated over it when Sophie called her down to eat dinner.

"How are things going? Are you painting Jamie yet?" Sophie asked, setting a plate in front of her. She sat down next to Tatiana after pouring them each a glass of wine.

"No, I painted a background and sketched her on the canvas today," Tatiana answered. She took a long swig of the sweet wine and rubbed the back of her neck, tired from trying to work for the past few hours.

"Ah. Is it coming along well?" Sophie continued as they ate.

"Somewhat. The only part I can't get right is her lips. I want to draw her smiling, but she rarely smiles. I think I've only ever seen it twice, and she will not look very becoming if I draw her with that sad, forlorn look that's always on her face," Tatiana sighed. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

Sophie smiled at her sympathetically and wished her the best. 

Tatiana ended up working on the portrait late into the night. She was itching to get started on actually painting Jamie and knew she would be restless until she at least got a light layer of shadows and highlights down.

As she thoughtfully placed brushstrokes of light and dark areas, Tatiana frowned and rubbed her forehead in frustration. The figure staring back at her simply was not Jamie, even though it resembled her perfectly. Something about the expression and the spirits on the canvas was not good enough, and Tatiana couldn't figure out why.

She took a determined breath and picked up her paintbrush once more. It was already late enough, and she was determined to get the basics knocked out of the way before collapsing into bed, which sounded more than appealing to Tatiana as she struggled on.

A dreamless sleep overtook Tatiana the second that she shrugged her apron off, washed her paintbrushes, and lay down in bed. She was still weary in the morning and didn't bother to work on the portrait before going out with Jamie, instead just staying in bed for a while longer and eventually gathering up the energy to get dressed.

The cool, fresh air helped to reinvigorate her. Tatiana inhaled new inspiration and exhaled her previous troubles while she walked through fields and along the cliffs with Jamie. Down the rocky steps and to the beach she followed Jamie, her muse this time leading her further along the beaches and taking the time to gander at the environment around them. Once again Jamie sat down in the sand, folding her hands neatly and looking out at the waves. Tatiana wordlessly sat beside her.

"Sometimes I wonder if my sister wanted to die," Jamie spoke quietly.

Tatiana looked over at her curiously, a little surprised. It was the first time Jamie had said anything about her sister's death, or any of the troubles that Tatiana pitied her for. She had been itching to know more about how the death of her sister and her impending marriage, but she hadn't wanted to ask questions that might bring up painful memories.

"Given what she did, I think she did want to die. Why do you think otherwise?" Tatiana asked softly. She met Jamie's gaze and searched her eyes, finding a solemn and sober light in the deep brown eyes looking back at her.

"Because I knew her. She was so happy and full of life when I knew her, before I was sent away and before she was to be engaged. I never saw her after that, and I'll never know if she wanted to die or if she felt like she had to. She didn't want to be married, I do know that, and that's what makes me wonder if she felt trapped and to die was the only way out," Jamie explained, looking down at her lap and absentmindedly tracing shapes in the sand with her finger.

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine losing someone and having so much uncertainty about it," Tatiana offered. She knew how awkward it was to apologize about a tragedy, and how doubly awkward it was to be on the receiving end of such an apology, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"In the last letter she wrote to me, she apologized randomly at the end. I didn't know what she was talking about when I read it," Jamie recalled, managing to look tragically dignified, "I understand now that she was apologizing for leaving me her fate."

Tatiana nodded, wishing there was something she could say or do to make things better for Jamie. In the short period of time that they had known each other, she had come to like Jamie quite a bit, and it pained her at times to know that she was aiding in Jamie's undesired fate.

"Do you really think it will be so terrible?" Tatiana questioned after a brief silence passed between them.

Jamie didn't answer the question at first, instead asking one herself, "what do you know about my marriage?"

"Only that your suitor is a wealthy Englishman but lives in Milan," Tatiana shrugged. It was all Lady Chadwick had told her, and it wasn't her place to pry into the lives of those who she was commissioned by. All she was there for was to paint, not to ask questions.

Jamie gave her a curt nod and said, "I do not know anything more than that either, not even his name. That's what bothers me about the whole ordeal so much. I'm being forced down a path that I know nothing about against my will. I think that I would at least be a little more willing and less afraid if I knew a little more about my future. It makes me feel like I'm being kidnapped."

Tatiana grimaced and instinctively reached out to put a hand on Jamie's shoulder. It was one of the only ways that she knew how to comfort someone and she didn't realize what she was doing until her hand was warmly on Jamie's shoulder and the other girl glanced over at her. She quickly removed her hand and didn't see Jamie unable to hide a smile coming over her features.

"I think I would have rather stayed in a convent than have to marry like that," Tatiana sighed. She didn't know what had come over her so quickly, but she felt so connected to Jamie and didn't want to let her go down the foggy gray path of arranged marriage that she was helpless against. If she could, Tatiana would have held onto her and never let go.

"I think that too sometimes. I liked it there. It was quiet and there wasn't inequality," Jamie recalled, getting a far off look on her face and focusing out on the horizon.

Tatiana smiled and said, "ah, it wasn't the life for me. I got scolded for drawing in my books," without overthinking it. When Jamie looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a curious expression, she realized that she had implied that she was an artist. For a brief second, she was afraid that she had revealed too much and Jamie would figure out why she was really there.

"Oh, you draw?" Jamie inquired, and Tatiana couldn't tell if she was asking out of suspicion or if nothing seemed awry to her.

"Occasionally," Tatiana answered, doing her best to seem casual. She wanted to change the subject and said, "I suppose there is nothing you can do to stop your marriage. Women so rarely get a say in our lives."

Jamie shivered and clenched her jaw, tensely closing her eyes and looking away for a second. "We're just forced to be silent and go along with whatever is chosen for us," she said.

Tatiana could see the anger and frustration locked up inside her, something she wasn't allowed to show yet she felt so deeply inside. It pained her to imagine how she would feel if she were the one in an arranged marriage. Tatiana sighed and mused, "to think that some say silence is golden."

"Silence is a stone in your mouth."

They silently sat in the sand for the better part of an hour. Jamie seemed like she was having a hard time keeping her frustration at bay and Tatiana wished that she would just let her feelings out; she would not have judged Jamie if she cried or screamed or kicked at the rocks on the beach.

The endless rhythm of the ocean eventually served to calm Jamie down. At one point, she got up and led Tatiana closer to the water's edge, and they carefully gathered their skirts and kicked their shoes off to walk through the seafoam of the waves that lapped at the sand. Their stockings got wet, but they didn't care. Sometimes it was good to let your feet get wet and not care about the state of your stockings, Tatiana thought.

Do you think you will ever marry?" Jamie asked as they trekked back to where they had left their shoes.

Tatiana wrestled her wet stockings off and shoved them in her pockets, not wanting to get her shoes wet. "No, unless I meet somebody I would genuinely want to marry. I am fortunate enough that I don't need to," she answered. They began to walk back along the beach to go back up to the house.

"Then you cannot possibly understand me, you have a choice in the matter," Jamie insisted with a dismissive shake of her head.

Still, Tatiana felt the opposite. She could see right through Jamie, right through her silent passionate anger and into the depths of her soul. After studying her intently, Tatiana felt that she knew not just her appearance well, but the way her heart and mind worked too.

As the climbed back up the rocky steps, Tatiana breathed out, "no, I understand you."

Jamie said nothing more and simply led her back to the old house.

**Author's Note:**

> ok hi im gonna update this as I get more of it done obviously but it wasn't originally going to be a multichapter fic lmfaoo
> 
> but as always you can find me on Tumblr @esteboo-ocon🥺


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